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Back The Outside Man Save as PDF
Chapters (42)
  1. Cover Page
  2. EARLY BIRD BOOKS
  3. Praise for the Writing of Richard North Patterson
  4. Title Page
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. One
  8. Two
  9. Three
  10. Four
  11. Five
  12. Six
  13. Seven
  14. Eight
  15. Nine
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Twelve
  19. Thirteen
  20. Fourteen
  21. Fifteen
  22. Sixteen
  23. Seventeen
  24. Eighteen
  25. Nineteen
  26. Twenty
  27. Twenty-one
  28. Twenty-two
  29. Twenty-three
  30. Twenty-four
  31. Twenty-five
  32. Twenty-six
  33. Twenty-seven
  34. Twenty-eight
  35. Twenty-nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-one
  38. Thirty-two
  39. Thirty-three
  40. Thirty-four
  41. Thirty-five
  42. About the Author

He paused. “What I said, about going on: I want you to stop.”

“I’m not sure I have that choice anymore.”

“Adam, this is my responsibility. It always was. I realize I never should have involved you. Please, believe this is for your own good.”

“Not until we’ve talked.”

“We’ll have time. Just take care of yourself and Kris Ann.”

“Henry, there’s something I have to know—”

“Goodbye, Adam. Rest.” He hung up.

I held the phone for a long time after.

Kris Ann returned with the doctor. There was no fracture, he said: I could go home Monday if I remembered that a second blow to the head could cause brain damage. Kris Ann promised to remind me.

I kept wondering about Henry, and Jason.

But Rayfield had Jason now and I was hurt, fearful of the wounds and hatreds I felt reaching from the past toward Kris Ann and me. They gave me another pill.

Then Rayfield called to say Jason was out free.

Twenty-seven

TWENTY-SEVEN

“The girl swears Jason was home all night,” he said Monday morning, “and their neighbors don’t know different.”

He sat flatfooted in the armless chair, thumbs gripping his notepad like a hat he didn’t know where to put. Burst veins like faultlines in his eyes made him look sleepless and volatile.

“What about the gun?” I asked.

Rayfield put the pad in his lap and began rubbing the tips of his fingers. “She says she made him drive to the Cahaba River and throw it in.”

“So you let him go.”

He looked sharply up. “We booked him for assault. If you’d told me the truth downtown we’d have pulled him in with the gun and you wouldn’t have been shot at. Assuming it was him.”

“Jesus Christ, forget the gun. The will is good enough now.”

Rayfield stood. “Oh, it’s the will that killed her. It’s just not Cantwell’s boy.” He walked to the end of the bed. “Let me tell you what I think happened. Lydia Cantwell had a boyfriend she wanted to marry. Cantwell knew, or guessed. For years she’d been his cover and now he stood to lose both that and her money. Then, the night he called from Anniston, Mrs. Cantwell told him about the will. It came to him: by killing her before she signed that will, he could pin it on the boy. So he drove back that night and strangled her. It all fits. He’s got no alibi, he lied about the phone call, and there’s no one in town believes Cantwell gave a shit for his son. All you have to do is think about how he could use that will.” He leaned forward, speaking intently. “I’m almost there, Shaw. All I need is her boyfriend’s name.”